He's Armed
by changinlndscape
Summary: How would the latter half of season 3 have played out if Castle had been able to carry a weapon? **This is a follow up to my story Do You See What I See, but stands alone very well.** In progress.
1. Chapter 1

**He's Armed**

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**A/N: **This is a continuation of my story _Do You See What I See? _but you don't really need to have read that to follow this. Though I'd love if you did. :) If not, here's what you need to know: Castle and Beckett became Caskett over the course of December of Season 3, and Beckett wrangled the rules around so that Castle could carry a weapon when he's working with the team, so long as he jumps through some hoops first.

This was going to be just a one or two shot, but I couldn't decide which angle to cover, so I decided on ALL of the angles and it's grown into a rather big thing. It covers the second half of Season 3, touching on quite a few episodes, starting with Knockdown. I'll be using chunks of dialogue from the show, but I figure everyone here will be able to pick those pieces out. I couldn't decide on a genre, or even two, because this is going to sort of wander between light and dark.

Please excuse any errors.

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**Chapter 1**

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She was going to kill him. His girlfriend; his hot, smart, talented, amazing detective girlfriend was going to kill him, and all the evidence pointed to the fact that she was going to _enjoy _it. Wheezing, Castle dropped from a run to a dawdling jog, and finally to a walk. He teetered across the path until he found himself stopped with his hands on his knees, chest heaving in an attempt to find some oxygen in the cold January air.

It hurt.

"Castle! C'mon, there's only half a mile to reach our goal!"

Castle twisted his head around so he could stay bent over and still glare at her. Beckett looked chipper, jogging in place and rubbing her gloved hands together in her enthusiasm. Her hair was in a ponytail, and it bounced jauntily from side to side. She was cute. She was also infuriating.

"Seven miles, Beckett. _Seven miles_." At last the wheezing was under control. Castle straightened so he could glare at her from his full height. "In the bitter cold. For no good reason."

"To prepare you for your physical test!" Beckett interjected, still bouncing around on her toes and moving her hands to her hips. "I'm only thinking of you."

Castle squinted menacingly. "There isn't even a distance run on the test. It's sprints, and agility, and climbing and lifting. I read that giant stack of paperwork you gave me." He wasn't proud of the whine in his voice, but it felt well earned.

Beckett bit her lip and grinned, the puffs of air leaving her mouth at an angle before being whisked away by the brisk breeze. "Always the reader," she teased. "And it'll help in the long run. So to speak."

Castle nodded, still breathing deeply, and pursed his lips. Then he shook his head. "We're done, coach. No more PT. I'm ready, and I'm done. This is done."

Eyes widening, mouth dropping open on a grin, Beckett held her hands out to the side with the palms up. _What, giving up? _"Alright," she relented when his expression didn't change. "We can walk back. But I think that tomorrow-"

"Nope."

"Castle..."

"No. Nope. Tomorrow I'm sleeping in." He twisted his wrist to look at his watch. "Until _way _after seven-thirty. And I'm not running or lifting, and I think I'm going to eat a cheeseburger. Or maybe two."

It was Beckett's turn to send him a look. "Your test is in three days."

"I know. And I'm pretty sure I'll pass it with flying colors. In the meantime, you," he poked her shoulder, "need to find some other recruit to harass."

Sliding close to him as they picked up a brisk walk back toward her apartment, the day feeling colder now that they weren't running, Beckett wrapped one arm around his waist. "But I don't like any of the other recruits."

"Right now I'm not sure you like me," Castle countered with a laugh.

Beckett laughed with him and squeezed once more before stepping aside so they could walk more efficiently. They were halfway back when she looked sideways at him. "I'm sorry. I know I'm over-doing it. I just got caught up. I think it's fun."

Castle huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Why? How is this fun?" As he asked, he looked down at her in the growing morning light, and almost answered his own question. Beckett's eyes were bright with amusement, her cheeks and lips rosy with the cold and exertion. And just like the first day she'd shown up at the loft to take him jogging, she was wearing a big NYPD sweatshirt and leggings that gave him an eyeful anytime she was ahead of him, which was most of the time.

"I like running," she began.

"No!" Castle feigned surprise with wide eyes and his smirk pulled into an "O" shape.

"And I like running with you, jerk," she continued, bumping her shoulder into his and then wrapping herself around his arm. "We're outside, and it's away from all of the downs of life. And you're wearing sweats."

Castle coughed in surprise. "You like the sweats, really?"

"It's kinda hot to see you working out," Beckett continued with a sultry grin. She used her hold on his arm to lift herself up to kiss his cheek, but made a face when she pulled away with the taste of sweat on her lips.

"Hot? Really?" Castle could feel his chest puffing out in pride, his stride lengthening into a strut. Not that Beckett was stingy with compliments, but there was something attached to his male ego that she was complimenting here and- "No. Hey. You will not convince me that this is fun."

Beckett chuckled low in her throat and raised an eyebrow. "Challenge accepted."

Her building felt hot compared to the cold outdoors, and even after pulling off their gloves they were sweating more, not less, as they rode the elevator up to Beckett's floor. Castle pulled the collar of his sweatshirt away from his throat, grimacing in discomfort and wiping at his brow. He really did not enjoy the aftermath of running anymore than the event itself.

Beckett was stripping her sweatshirt off before Castle had even closed the apartment door behind them, and he took the opportunity to watch her moving around the apartment in just her tight Under Armour tee and leggings. Okay, maybe he liked this part of the running experience.

"Hey, do you want me to start the cof..." She trailed off when she turned and caught him staring. Smiling, the tip of her tongue coming out to run along the edge of her teeth, she closed the distance between them again. Stretching up on her toes, pressing her palms flat against his chest, she brushed her lips against his day's worth of stubble and nipped his upper lip playfully before letting him press closer and really kiss her.

Castle bent over her and slid his lips heatedly along hers, tilting his head and pressing his tongue against her slightly parted lips. She taste like cold air and sweat, and he sucked the tip of her tongue into his mouth to make sure he got a taste of her, too. One of his hands wound around her back to tug playfully at her ponytail, and she gasped in surprise before pushing away with a breathless laugh.

"You shower first, stud. I'll make some coffee. Then if you're good," she smirked at his affronted expression and patted his chest, "we can go to the shooting range. I know you don't really need any practice there, but that's hot too."

Castle's face widened in a genuine smile, he nodded agreeably and started toward the bathroom. But as Beckett headed toward the kitchen, he swept past her and corralled her with a strong arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her with him. She squealed in surprise and put up a half-hearted fight that Castle knew she could win if she wanted, but by the time they were in the bathroom and he was sucking on her exposed and salty collarbone she was pulling him closer, not pushing him away.

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The next morning Beckett woke alone. Castle had insisted that he get to sleep in today, despite her most persuasive arguments. And though he'd invited her to stay at the loft, she needed a day to do all of the things she'd been putting off when she stayed at his place. Laundry. Shopping. Blow the dust off of the things she was no longer using. And she needed to work out alone.

As much fun as it was to run Castle until he could barely stand up, Beckett was paying for it, too. Her leg muscles were tight enough that she winced as she shifted her weight. Deciding to work through some light training and a yoga routine, she stretched from side to side to loosen her ribcage before plopping down on the ground. She stretched her long legs out straight in front of her and reached for her toes, wrapping her hands around the balls of her feet to feel the stretch in her calves and hamstrings.

She worked through several variations before standing again and working her quads. Next, she used the pull-up bar she'd installed in a doorway to provide resistance to stretch her shoulders, and then pulled herself up. She'd always been light and strong, and the few other women at the academy with her had hated how easy the pull-ups were for her. She smirked at the memory, dropped down to full arm extension, and pulled herself up again. And again. Twenty more and she could feel the burn, her smirk gone. She concentrated and pulled herself up again, stretching her neck to get her chin over the bar.

Then her phone rang.

Beckett paused, mid-pull, and glanced toward the device. She considered letting it go, she wasn't on call, but dismissed the idea. After all, it might be Castle. Her chest pulled with a now familiar sensation of unrestrained affection, and she dropped to the ground. But when she picked up the phone, she didn't recognize the number, and she answered with more than a little apprehension in her voice. The last thing she wanted was to get pulled in to work by some detective she didn't know looking for information.

"Beckett." She plopped down onto the couch.

"Detective Beckett?"

"Yeah."

"This is John Raglan. I was the lead investigator on your mother's homicide twelve years ago."

Beckett's stomach dropped and she sat forward slowly, her facial features smoothing into disbelieving neutrality. When her response came it was slow, but unwavering. "I remember you, Detective Raglan."

"Listen I..." Raglan paused, but Beckett sensed she shouldn't prompt him to hurry, so instead she clenched the fist not holding her phone until the fingernails were digging into her palm. "We need to talk about your mother's case. There's something you don't know. There's a coffee shop at fourth and main... meet me there in an hour. Just you. No cops."

Hanging up, Beckett dropped back against the back of the couch in silence, her arms limp beside her and her eyes closed. She was trembling, but it might have been a good thing. Other than that, all she could feel was a heavy emptiness. There was no anger, no tears, no big adrenaline rush that had her leaping to action or tasting the thickness of emotion in her throat.

There was only the heaviness, and the trembling. After some unknown amount of time had drifted by, she dragged her eyes open. She had to fight this shock, and she was sure that it was shock that had stolen her proportional reaction, and get going. She had to meet the man who told her more than a decade ago that her mother had died. She had to go to the coffee shop. She had to get up. She had to move. She had to... Castle.

She had to call Castle.

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**A/N: **And so it begins. Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Again, a lot of this dialogue is directly from the show. Not every chapter is like that. If you recognize it, it's probably not mine. :)

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Castle looked over at Beckett for the umpteenth time.

Again, she didn't seem to notice.

She'd seemed okay, when she called and quietly asked for his help. Her voice had been strained and lacked the playfulness that he'd heard so much of recently, but she seemed okay. But when she showed up at the loft to pick him up her demeanor had been markedly subdued. She was wearing a turtleneck and her eyes were downcast, and even though she let him brush a kiss across her cheek and wrap his arms around her in a hug she was completely unresponsive to him. She had been off in another world, and she had stayed there.

Now, even as she was carrying on a conversation that Castle himself was only half-listening to, he could see that she was on a kind of autopilot. It would help if Raglan would get to the point. He's been talking about things that don't matter, about coffee and his health and Jacob Marley. Castle might feel bad for the guy if Beckett wasn't entering a state of rigid focus that looked physically and emotionally painful.

Castle discreetly slipped a hand across the plastic booth between them and over hers, squeezing until he could see her react. It was subtle, just a flicker of her eyelashes in profile, but it meant she was present. She returned the squeeze, and Castle brought his attention back to the conversation, surprised to find he'd missed a few turns along the way.

"Who hired Coonan to kill my mom?" Beckett asked.

It was a straightforward question that led to a winding answer that didn't make much sense to Castle. Puzzle pieces dumped out on a table with no offer to help put them together. It was frustrating, but Castle could see that in the raggedness of Raglan's face was more than just the evidence of a recent and worrying diagnosis. It was years of weight etched across his brow and over the grizzled scruff on his chin. Years of deception that would take more than the length of a cup of coffee to untangle.

"Nineteen years ago I made a bad mistake, and that started the dominos falling. And one of them was your mom."

The sudden blast of an explosion provided the punctuation to end the sentence. Raglan's coffee cup, the one he'd been ruminating about only five minutes ago, shattered, sending shards of ceramic and hot coffee flying. Even as Beckett was drawing her weapon and spinning around to search for the source of the disruption, Raglan was falling sideways out of the booth.

"Everybody on the ground! Now!" Beckett had to shout over the screams of the other patrons. "Away from the window! Away from the window!"

Castle dropped down and looked wildly behind him, one hand sweeping past his hip to reach for a weapon that wasn't there, weeks of training preparing him just enough to feel naked without it. Behind him, he was surprised to find no evidence of an explosion. It was only when he saw the fractured blemish of a bullet hole in the window that he realized it was a gunshot. Raglan was prone on the floor, but Castle's eyes were drawn to the red stain blooming over Beckett's ribcage.

"You're hit." He didn't know how the words could come out so casually when his heart was thrashing in his chest.

"I'm fine. It's not my blood."

Beckett was talking into her radio, her weapon still at the ready, when Castle finally realized just how bad off Raglan was. Trying to stay low, he moved over next to the stricken man and heard a sickening gurgle. Knowing it was futile, Castle felt for the bullet wound, but the blood was escaping too quickly to stem the flow. When the rise and fall of Raglan's chest stopped, Castle's gaze moved from the flood at the man's chest to his face, where he noticed that Raglan's eyes exactly matched both the green of his jacket and the tiles of the floor.

It took him a beat longer than it should have to realize Raglan was dead, because he expected those eyes to close. When he did understand, he had to drag his wide eyes away to look toward Beckett and shake his head.

"One-lincoln-forty, please be advised this is now a homicide."

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Hours later, Captain Montgomery found himself alone, for a moment, on the sidewalk in front of the diner. The press was corralled behind him and the crime scene was in front of him, but he'd found a temporary bubble of quiet. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and took a breath of the cold New York City air, but kept his back straight. Tonight Montgomery felt the pendulum of all he'd done wrong in his life reach its highest point and pause, and he knew it would begin moving the other way at any moment. He was watching Beckett from a distance with heavy eyes, knowing that her life also hung in the balance.

With an energy he didn't feel he walked over to her and gave her an exasperated look.

"Tell me you didn't come down here without backup?"

Beckett opened her mouth wordlessly, an excuse or an explanation escaping her, and shrugged. Just as she was about to cop to her negligence, Esposito and Ryan walked by.

"We were backing her up, Cap'. We were just down the block when the shooting happened."

Beckett's grin was small and pained, but genuine. She was lucky to have a team like that. Montgomery continued to scold her, but he was mostly going through the motions. He couldn't make her keep away from this unless he put her in lockup, and even then she'd probably find a way.

"The hell am I gonna do with you," he muttered at her. It wasn't really a question, but she answered him anyway.

"You're going to let me work this case."

It was an unsettling knowledge, that he could see her setting out on a path that was so dangerous but he couldn't stop it. So he attempted to give her a small bump in a safer direction. "Go where the evidence leads, not the other way around."

Beckett nodded, but as she turned to head back inside to the crime scene, he could see the eager glint in her eye. This was a terrible murder, but it was also the first new evidence she'd gotten in more than a year about her mom, and damned be the man who tried to stop her from looking into it. Montgomery clenched his jaw and stared after her until she was stepping over the threshold, then he turned to face the press.

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Castle didn't notice Beckett approaching, his eyes busy inspecting his hands for any blood he may have missed. It was surprisingly hard to clean off.

"You good?"

Her voice brought his head up too quickly, his eyes still too wide. "Yeah I think I got it all off my hands." He wiped the rag over his palms again despite his words. They may never feel clean again. Beckett stepped close and laid one hand on his arm and took the rag from him with the other. She tilted her head at him, a knowing look in her eyes, then looked down to inspect his hands. She tossed the rag into a red bio-hazard bin and captured each of his hands in one of hers.

"I'm so sorry about this Castle."

He shook his head and attempted a smile. "This isn't your fault, Kate. This isn't on you."

She nodded, agreeing at least in theory, and regarded him closely. "It's different, when you're close enough to watch the lights go out."

"Yeah. When I saw the blood on your shirt, I thought you'd been shot." Beckett dropped her gaze and started to step away. But he caught her hands in a firmer grip, not letting her create that distance knowing what it would mean. "I wouldn't be able to handle that."

When he squeezed again, she met his eyes and seemed at a loss of what to say. But that's okay, because Castle was the one with the words. "You have to do what you can to stay safe, Kate. Because I couldn't handle losing you like that."

Despite the crowd of officers and detectives, despite the curious press being so close, Beckett lifted a hand to his face to stroke all too briefly down his jaw. "I'll stay safe," she promised, though they both knew it a tenuous guarantee.

Beckett took another step back, and this time he let her go. "I'm gonna go to the 12th. How about I drop you off? You should go reassure your family that you're alright."

"Not a chance. I'll call Mother, let her know I'm fine." He wasn't going to leave her to struggle through this alone, not tonight. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Montgomery finishing up his second press conference of the day and decided not to walk Beckett back to her cruiser. "But, I'll meet you back there. I'm going to walk."

Beckett's brow furrowed. "It's like thirty blocks."

But Castle had made up his mind. "If I change my mind halfway, I'll grab a cab. I'm okay," he reassured her. Not for the first time since they'd been dating, he had to reign in the desire to give her a hug in public. She hesitated, but in the end she needed to get back to the precinct, and she didn't have time to talk him out of his walk.

Castle stood still in the center of the diner, officers and crime scene techs moving around him, his manufactured grin fading away after she left, Something had changed today. Preparing to head out, Montgomery noticed Castle standing in the diner and detoured inside.

"How you holding up, Castle?"

Castle met his gaze and shrugged, uncertain. "I'm worried."

Montgomery nodded sympathetically, but didn't offer any platitudes. "You can help keep her safe."

The words brought Castle out of his daze, and he suddenly stood up straight. "I'd like to. Can you do me a favor, Captain?"

Montgomery shifted his weight onto his rear leg and regarded Castle with something like suspicion. "Strange time to call in favors, Castle."

"I'm scheduled to go to the shooting range and take my physical qualifying exam in two days. But I need to be armed, like, five hours ago."

"Castle, you can't carry a weapon until you've done your diligence."

"I want to take the tests tomorrow, Roy. The earlier the better."

For Montgomery, the timing of all of this would have been funny if it wasn't so deadly serious. Castle, armed? It might help, or it might hurt, and there was no way to tell which way the cards would fall.

When he hesitated, Castle dragged both hands over his face and started to pace in a tiny back and forth pattern in front of the captain. "Today, when that shot was fired, I reached for a weapon _I didn't have_. I was ready. I need to be able to protect her."

"Wouldn't have made a difference today, Castle."

"Right, but-"

"And the only protection Beckett needs is from herself. You can do that just as well now as you could with a piece strapped to your hip."

"Captain," Castle stopped pacing to stand directly in front of him. "Do you really believe that? This shooting wasn't a coincidence. We're all in danger here, and I need to be able to pull my weight. I'm her _partner_." He emphasized the last word with his hands clenched into fists in front of him.

"Roy, Raglan said he kept quiet because he was afraid, and the moment he even thought about speaking up he was taken out. Surely you see what that means for Kate?"

Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Montgomery sighed. "Alright, Castle. I'll see what I can do."

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It was after midnight when they were falling into Beckett's bed, exhausted. They'd opted for her place to avoid having to make small talk with Martha or Alexis, though they'd both spoken to each of them on the phone. They'd gone through the motions of getting ready for bed without speaking, a tired rhythm to their evening dance. Now, finally, Castle scooted across the bed until he could wrap around Beckett from behind, both taking and receiving comfort in their touch. He buried his nose into the crease between her neck and shoulder and spoke his first words in an hour into her skin. "His eyes were green. Just like his jacket."

"Castle." His name, a sigh on her lips, was as much comfort as anyone could offer right now.

The buzz of his phone vibrating on the nightstand interrupted his reply. With a groan of annoyance, Castle rolled over and answered without bothering to see who it was.

"Castle." It was Montgomery, sounding like a man who was still at the office, alert, working. Castle sat up.

"Hey, Captain."

Beckett rolled over onto her back to look inquisitively up at him, her eyes strangely dark, as if they were boycotting the effort required to reflect the ambient light. Castle shook his head at her, _no news_, and his brow furrowed naturally as he listened to Montgomery.

"Called in a few favors, Rick. Show up at your designated location tomorrow at 6:30am and they'll finish up whatever you need done to carry."

Castle closed his eyes in both relief and foreboding. "Thank you, sir. I'll repay that favor."

"No need, Castle. It's as much mine as yours. It's in everybody's best interest to keep Beckett safe. It's up to you now."

Castle turned his gaze back to Beckett and found her still staring up at him. "Yes, sir." He returned his phone to the nightstand and lowered himself back to the bed. This time when he scooted closer, Beckett stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"What'd Montgomery want?"

"I'm getting up early, gonna go take my physical test, go the gun range, hand in all the paper work. I want..." he paused, and lifted her hand from his chest to press a delicate kiss to her palm. "I need to be armed, Kate. This, what happened today, it feels like the beginning of something. I need to be ready."

Beckett lifted up on one elbow so she could nuzzle his cheek with her nose before laying a soft, warm kiss against his lips. Barely moving away, Castle's skin still warm with the almost touch of hers, she whispered, "It's not all on you, Rick."

"I know."

Accepting his answer at face value, Beckett fell back to the bed and turned away, pulling Castle with her, drawing his arm over her waist and tucking their joined hands under her chin.

"Love you, Castle."

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Back at the Twelfth, Roy Montgomery hung up his phone and sat back in his desk chair. He felt strangely calm. Everything that he'd been hiding for the last twelve years was surfacing, like a piece of glass imbedded in skin during an accident. It was a little painful now, but the real bleeding wouldn't happen until everything was out in the open.

Roy opened his top desk drawer and removed the flask he kept their for special circumstances. He twisted the top off and took a long swig. Bourbon. It wasn't his first drink on this day, and he didn't grimace as it burned on the way down.

This was a train wreck. They were all hurtling down the tracks toward imminent demise. And everyone knew. Everyone could feel that they were out of control, could feel the car rocking, could hear the dishes on the tables rattling too much and spilling coffee and juice. But he was the only one who knew that they couldn't stop now, because he was the one who'd cut the brake cables.

They'd know soon enough, and then there would be a reckoning.

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**A/N**: Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thank you for every fav/follow/review! This was too long, so I cut it into two chapters. There'll be another chapter out late tomorrow.

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**...**

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(It wasn't supposed to be like this.)

Castle shrugged on his jacket and picked up his keys off the kitchen counter. He looked back toward Beckett's bedroom in the pre-dawn darkness, a little light from the moon and the city coating the way in just enough powder blue to see through the black. He should leave her be, let her sleep while she can. But he wasn't supposed to be doing this alone, and a mild resentment at the universe settled in his chest. He was angry that she had to go through all of this, that they both did.

Wrapping his fingers around the keys to keep them from rattling, he quietly made his way back to the bedroom. Beckett was curled up tightly on her side of the bed, though she'd snuggled up to his pillow since he'd slipped out. Castle smiled at the sight, putting the negatives aside for as long as he could. He was here, in her bedroom, invited and welcome anytime. They were together. And he was free to lean over and brush a goodbye kiss that she wouldn't feel to her temple, so he did.

The plan had been for Beckett to be at the physical test. It was going to be fun, just a thing to do together, an obstacle course with a fun reward at the end. But now, as he sprinted through the serpentine patterns and lifted the heavy weights, there was only focus. Get it done, get back to Kate. When he finished well within the set time limit, with only a little bit of sweat beading above his eyebrows, the cops around gave him smiles and congratulations, one of the guys slapped his back after he signed off on the paperwork.

Castle couldn't muster the good energy to return the sentiments, so he only nodded and asked directions to the gun range. Beckett was supposed to be here, so he could complain about how she had over-prepared him, how those last few long runs were only to satisfy her hidden domineering side. She was supposed to be here so he could show off and feel proud, and so she could congratulate him in whatever way she wanted.

Castle sighed.

The shooting test was only a formality, he'd been a good shot before he ever started at the 12th; the latent perks of research. Instead of thinking of it as a test, Castle used the exercise to focus his mind and to let off some steam. As he watched the bullets tear into the center of the targets, he reminded himself that he would be able to protect her now. That, more than anything, helped to take the edge off. But still...

(There wasn't supposed to be a gnawing sensation in his gut.)

This whole thing had been a gift. Beckett had told him that it was partly about safety and making him a real part of the team, but she'd mostly just wanted to make his day. To see the way his eyes had widened with glee when he'd figured out what she'd done. It was never supposed to be this suffocating responsibility and _weight_. It had been a gesture of trust, and a gesture that showed how well she knew him. The weapon now holstered at his hip was meant to be a reward, but he could feel it dragging at his stride with every step.

Walking past the stone facade of the precinct, Castle checked his watch. It was later than he'd intended to get here. He felt strangely nervous as he unholstered the weapon and slid it into the bin at the metal detector. There was some confusion as the guards looked at his license as usually only cops were allowed to carry in the building, and then one of them looked up and stared him down shrewdly.

"Richard Castle? You're the writer that works with homicide, right? With Detective Beckett?"

"That's right."

The officer carefully handed Castle back his paperwork and weapon, then he crossed his arms. "The whole building knows what's been going on with her mother's case. We also know that you treat this whole precinct like a playground. It's not a game, Mr. Castle."

Castle met his gaze with heavy eyes and no mirth. "I'm aware, officer."

The officer stared him down for another second before relaxing his stance. "Good. They're going to need all the help they can get."

Castle nodded but said nothing more as he walked away. He knew that the boys had been planning a faux celebration party for the day he first got to carry his weapon. He'd caught Alexis ordering the banner two weeks ago. He also knew that there wouldn't be one, now. When he walked onto the floor, Ryan and Esposito waved him over. They both noticed his weapon, and they both ignored it but for the slightest of nods.

"Beckett?"

"In the box with Vulcan Simmons. He used to run the drug trade in Washington Heights, where Beckett's mother ran a Take-Back-The-Neighborhood program."

Castle nodded and headed in the direction of their vague gestures, his brow crinkled as he tried to make the connections. He probably should have headed toward the viewing room, but instead he went right into the interrogation room. He couldn't find it in himself to watch from the outside on this one.

It was a risk, walking in like that, but Beckett showed no sign of irritation as he took his seat next to her. She didn't even hesitate in her line of questioning, so Castle set his focus on the man across the table. Vulcan Simmons was a big, smartly dressed black man, the kind of guy who you might think had a kind face if he wasn't sneering the way he was. And after listening for a moment, Castle realized it was more than the sneer. The man was some kind of pseudo-psychology wielding ego-maniac, attempting to undermine Beckett by analyzing her attacks.

Castle bristled, and Simmons looked over at him with amusement before looking back at Beckett.

"He's sweet on you. Makes him brave."

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Montgomery watched through the one-way glass as Vulcan Simmons slowly got under Beckett's skin. He was unfortunately very well acquainted with both of the adversaries in this fight, and this was a showdown that could only end one way. When the glass shattered with the force of Becket slamming Simmons against it he didn't even twitch. He only sighed, glancing to the side as Ryan and Esposito ran out of the viewing room to stop the scene from getting any worse.

Roy took his time to follow, gathering his thoughts. This might not be such a bad thing after all. Here, finally, was the chance that he'd been looking for. So he stepped out of the room slowly, barely turning his head to give Beckett and Castle a disapproving look where they stood fuming in the bullpen.

"My office."

They followed with the speed of ill-spent energy, wired, buzzing, and Montgomery knew how they were going to take his next words.

"I have kick that son of a bitch loose now."

Beckett argued, but it was so easy. He was telling the truth, anyway. Simmons _was _playing her. She _had _made a mistake. And now he could do what he'd been trying to find a reason to do.

"You're off this case. Go home."

The look on her face would stay with him for hours. Anger and hurt and a kind of betrayal that was only a shadow of what it might one day be. It pulled strangely at his conscience see her like that, but it was the only way.

Beckett stormed out of Montgomery's office and grabbed her jacket without stopping, and Castle stood quickly.

"Beckett?" She didn't stop. "Kate!"

"Castle."

Castle glanced at Montgomery, surprised to see him blocking his way. He watched the elevator doors close in front of Beckett, the anxiety in his belly kicking up another notch.

"Sit down, Castle."

Montgomery closed the door behind him but didn't sit, instead leaning forward with his fingertips pressed into his desk while Castle clasped his hands on his lap.

"You qualified for your weapon." Montgomery's voice was low, dangerous. "Don't get yourself killed."

"No, sir."

"Don't get her killed." Castle started, eyebrows raising, an argument on the tip of his tongue, but Montgomery only held up a hand to silence him. "Simmons was right. The way you feel for her makes you brave. Don't let it get either of you killed. Now go after her, or go home. I don't need you playing Nancy Drew on this."

Castle hadn't yet left the bullpen when his phone rang. "Kate," he answered, his eyes closing in relief. She wasn't shutting him out completely. She was silent, and he couldn't help stating a small reprimand, turning away from the crowd of officers in the bullpen to whisper, "You can't just walk away anymore. I'm with you. I'm here, too."

"I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left like that." There was the sound of tears in her voice, and Castle's eyes opened as got himself moving again. "I'm going home. Join me there?"

"Of course."

At her door, Castle hesitated, then knocked. When she swung the door open, he could see the redness around her eyes, but she still smiled when he lifted a bouquet of flowers toward her. Beckett accepted the flowers and stepped into the embrace he offered, tucking her head beneath his chin. "I wondered why you weren't right behind me."

"Flower stop," he murmured and hugged her tightly. Then he chuckled, "I also had to check in with my mother. She yelled at me."

Beckett pulled back and frowned at him. "What, why?"

Castle waved a hand dismissively. "Another time. How are you holding up?"

She shrugged with a wry grin, and led him farther into the room, listening as he spun a plan that Nancy Drew herself would be proud of to get back into the precinct and start working the case. But when the plan continued to grow in enthusiasm and hijinks, Beckett put a finger over his lips to quiet him. She slipped her hand into his and pulled him to a corner of the room, and drew open what Castle had assumed were decorative shutters and revealed a murder board of legal pad papers and note cards, with her mother's picture prominent in the middle.

Castle swallowed, and felt his stomach drop again. So much time, so much of her life, so much of her mind was laid here before them. It was haunting, and he fought the urge to wrap his arms around her again. He had learned to read this particular set of her shoulders, so he simply stepped in beside her, and let her tell him what she knew.

(It wasn't supposed to be this hard.)

Castle was boiling some water on her stove for pasta when Beckett got a text from Ryan. She was off the case, sure, but they were still her team. It was just a quick update that the boys looking for Hal Lockwood in midtown. He watched as she set the phone down and rested her head in her hands. She looked exhausted, sitting back up to drag her hands through her hair and stare unseeing at the information they'd laid out on the coffee table.

Castle's head tilted in concern, a word of comfort building in his chest, but as he was about to speak there was a knock at the door. Beckett's sluggish response had Castle wiping his hands on a rag and shooing her back to the couch.

"I got it."

A quick look through the peephole showed the Captain's face, waiting impatiently. Castle opened the door in a hurry and waved him in. "Hey, Captain."

Montgomery shook his hand, then looked over at where Beckett was rising to her feet in the living room.

"Let me talk to her alone, Castle."

He nodded reluctantly and headed back to the kitchen, straining to listen as he continued going through the motions of making dinner. He only was able to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Ryan and Esposito... murder... guy's a professional..."

"...If this sniper is after me..."

None of this was helping the knot in Castle's stomach. There was a long string of words he couldn't decipher, and then they were standing and moving toward the door.

"You gotta let me have this, Roy. Let me come back and work on my mom's case."

"No." The word was unequivocal, and Montgomery made eye contact with Castle after he said it. _No, Castle. Not you either_.

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(It wasn't supposed to come between them, not even a little bit.)

"Castle, there's something I need you to do."

They'd finished the simple spaghetti dinner, plates and dishes piled unwashed in the sink where they'd be washed later. Castle and Beckett were sitting in near silence on the couch, lost in their own thoughts, an open bottle of wine on the coffee table.

"Name it."

"Go home." At his look, she continued, "Look, I signed up for this when I put that badge on, you didn't. It's not your fight."

"Are you kidding?"

"I'm serious. This is my fight, Castle."

The stubborn stupidity of the words caused his voice to want to rise. With an effort, he kept his voice low but it came out like a kind of growl, "We've been through this, Kate. I may not have a badge, but I'm armed, and I'm ready, and I'm here with you."

"And what about your family, Rick? You can't just throw yourself in the line of fire without thinking about them. Is that why your mother was yelling at you earlier?"

"Do you think I haven't thought about that? That the idea doesn't horrify me? That I don't know that Alexis is eighteen just like you were nineteen?"

Beckett's head snapped back like he'd slapped her, but when her mouth opened no words came out.

Castle stood abruptly, then sat back down with effort. He dragged both hands over his face and forced himself to look at her. "I'm sorry I said that. But I can't just walk away and leave you out there fighting while I wait to hear that you're okay. I'll be careful, Kate. I know what I have to be careful for. But you aren't getting rid of me."

"Okay." Cautiously, Beckett handed him his wine glass and tapped it with her own. "My plucky sidekick."

"I'm your partner."

Suppressing a reluctant smile, Beckett nodded, her shoulders relaxing. "Okay. Then you have to come with me to talk to Pulgotti tomorrow, see if he can shed some light on this whole thing."

"Well, okay, but I thought I requested every other day off when I signed up, you know, don't want to work too hard."

The joke wasn't very funny, and it was an effort to smile, but he got through it. Beckett eyeballed him sideways, and then thwacked him with a couch cushion. This time, Castle's grin was more genuine. "Alright, I'm going to clean up the kitchen."

"Oh," Beckett feigned shock with her fingers covering the 'o' of her mouth, "And he cleans, too? Damn I got lucky."

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The next day, Pulgotti told them that he thought Bobby Armin's killer was a cop, and Castle could feel the darkness descending again.

"There's nothing more dangerous than a killer with a badge, Detective."

Castle believed him, but he could see that Beckett was only getting drawn deeper in. They left the prison and went straight to the precinct, barely stopping long enough to drop off their jackets before going to Montgomery.

"Here's what we know," Beckett began, after Montgomery reamed her out for not following orders. "Nineteen years ago Raglan and at least two other cops were kidnapping mobsters for ransom."

Castle was listening to Beckett, but he was watching Montgomery. There was an unexplained tension in the man. He was sitting still, but his hands were twitching as he sat. His eyebrows were too fixed, his expression unmoved. His face seemed inexplicably sad.

The day was a downhill slide of momentum after that. They interviewed Macalister, they chased leads. When they found a woman dead and heard that Ryan and Esposito had been taken, it seemed to Castle like a fitting, terrible culmination of the rising tension.

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They needed a way past the guard, to get into the building where the boys were being held, and Castle suggested they pretend to be just passing by. Drunk, lost, lusty. He said the last word with a little lift of the eyebrow, but he wasn't really feeling the humor. Neither was Beckett, but she was feeling his plan.

"Best idea we've got," she shrugged, and opened her door.

As he hurried to catch her as she fell into her drunk-girl walk, Castle couldn't shake the sense that there was some kind of cosmic bad humor shining down on them today.

The boys were in danger, possibly dead, and he and Beckett were walking through an alley, wrapped around each other, pretending to be drunk. Pretending to have the kind of good time that all of this damn conspiracy drama had prevented them from experiencing for themselves. It was hilarious, wasn't it? Here they were, kissing in an alley (really kissing, too, that was her tongue) with a giant thug looming over their shoulder, and Beckett was looking out of the corner of her eye to watch the guy, distracted. Just a tiny allegory of their life as a couple thus far, and Castle could laugh with humorless irony if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied.

They guy was creeping closer, and Castle couldn't tell if it was suspicion or dirty interest on the guy's face, but he was close. Too close, and Castle's hand started creeping toward his weapon. But before he could to anything, Beckett was spinning away from him and took the guy down with one clean hit. Castle's mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"That was amazing, the way you knocked him out," Castle breathed, wiping some of the moisture off of his face. Beckett tilted her head at him in question. Oh! "I mean, the kiss, too, that was amazing. Everything you do is amazing."

Beckett allowed herself a little grin at his expression, then she turned back to the building. "You ready?"

"Yeah, ready. Let's go."

Beckett started toward the door, then stopped and turned around to look at Castle. "Draw your weapon," she instructed.

Sheepishly, he did as he was told. "Sorry, of course I-"

"It's okay," she interrupted, her voice calm and kind to soften the blow of her exasperation. "Safety off. You feel okay to do this?"

"Yeah, I'm just..." Scared. He was scared, and how in the world was he going to be of any help at all if he was terrified before they'd even gotten inside?

But Beckett put a hand on his chest, calming. "It's okay to be scared. Just don't shoot unless you're sure, okay? We've got this."

Finally, she opened the door and entered the building, Castle right on her heels.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: As a note, I've purposely kept this story weaving in and out of cannon, because I don't want to stray too far from the actual events of Season 3, even though the situations are different in some significant ways.

Shortish chapter. Hope you like it.

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They entered the building together, Beckett just ahead of Castle, and plunged into near full darkness. When their eyes adjusted, they could see that they were in a short hallway, with light in front of them and on the left. A door, slightly ajar, from which voices could be heard.

"That's Ryan," Castle hissed.

Beckett held her finger to her lips, _quiet_, and Castle nodded. His palms were sweating, he could feel his pulse in his throat and his fingertips, but he felt calm otherwise. He followed as Beckett moved swiftly down the hallway until her back was pressed against the wall beside the door. There she paused, took a deep breath and peeked through the small gap. She lifted four fingers.

Four guys. Okay.

Before moving further, despite the threats they could now hear being hurtled at their friends, Beckett glanced back at Castle. He could read the uncertainty swimming in the dark green of her eyes. Not in the attack, but in his part of the maneuver. Leaning very close, his nose brushing across the soft skin of her cheek, Castle whispered as low as he could manage, "I'm good. Let's go. I'll get the door."

His confidence boosted hers, and Beckett nodded sharply.

The next few seconds went by sluggishly. Castle reared back and kicked the door, his momentum knocking him back a step. Beckett flew past him, took aim, and took two of the guys down before Castle was even moving forward. She was darting left with big strides, so Castle headed right and dove behind a stack of cargo bins for cover. His breath rasping against his chest, he moved sideways so he could get a look back at the action and found himself face to face with one of Lockwood's thugs.

Castle was staring down the barrel of a gun, but instead of a resurgence of the fear he'd felt earlier, he felt the surge of adrenaline like a fiery physical pressure all along his limbs. He lifted his weapon and fired without conscious thought, and watched the guy drop with a yell. He'd gotten him in his right upper chest, and he was down. Castle picked up the pistol anyway, just to be safe, and finally peered into the center of the room.

Ryan and Esposito were leaning next to a water trough, hands behind their backs and ropes around their necks. Castle felt a moment of indecision, wanting nothing more than to free his friends. But that wasn't his job right now, and with a kind of cold calm, he settled. The energy was still in him, shooting fire and strange sensation throughout his body, but his hands were steady and dry.

He couldn't see Beckett, but guessed she was also hiding behind lockers on the other side of the room. He shifted sideways, again, and finally caught sight of her. They were separated by Lockwood himself, but Castle could see Beckett reloading, braced against a forklift. The part of his mind that was always observing made a mental note of the image, because she was so in charge, so sure, so calm. He would write it into a scene later. She looked just like Nikki Heat.

Then out of the corner of his eye, Castle saw Lockwood setting his sight on Beckett. His weapon was raised, and his finger was tensing on the trigger. What shot through him this time was something akin to rage, though viewed through a misty lens of sentiment. That was _his _Beckett Lockwood was aiming at.

Why he wasn't guarding himself from being flanked, Castle didn't care to guess. Possibly, Lockwood didn't consider Castle a threat, but it didn't matter. It only mattered that he had time and opportunity to attack. Without a moment to second guess it, Castle raised his weapon and fired one more time, catching Lockwood in his shoulder. Lockwood jerked and dropped the gun, but he didn't fall. After the initial impact, he regained his balance and started to reach for his gun again.

Castle charged, swinging his gun hand and slamming the butt of the weapon sideways into Lockwood's jaw with a sickening crunch. As the other man went down, the conglomerate of emotion setting fire to his systems got the better of Castle and he swung his left hand into the mans face, then again, and again, until Beckett was standing just in front of him. When he finally stopped, he could taste blood in his mouth, but he didn't think he was bleeding.

Beckett regarded him quietly, standing very still. "You okay?"

Castle stared up at her where she was silhouetted by the harsh light of the warehouse. He nodded mutely, then sat back on his heels and watched while Beckett cuffed the unconscious Lockwood. She returned to him and ran her fingers through his hair in a single caress, an acknowledgement, and gratitude. Castle leaned his forehead against her hip, allowing himself a single breath to gather himself, and then clambered to his feet so they could go free Ryan and Esposito.

He was shaking uncontrollably.

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(She wasn't supposed to be taking care of him.)

"None of this is going like I imagined it," Castle murmured in the back of the open ambulance, watching her hands work at his bandage.

"How do you mean?"

Castle could only shrug, his unexplained disappointment feeling childish and mundane. "Nothing, I'm being stupid."

"Hey," Beckett tapped his wrist lightly until he met her eyes. "Tell me. Can't just walk away now, right?"

Her words cut through the haze of adrenaline and disappointment, and he smiled, briefly. "I've just always felt kind of naked running around with you guys. I thought when I had a weapon I'd be able to keep things together. To keep the bad things from happening." He laughed, derisively. "I know that doesn't make any real sense. You've all been armed this whole time."

"You may have saved my life today, Castle. Isn't that enough?" Her fingers were still caressing his wrist above his bandage, her voice soft and soothing.

"Of course it is. Yeah, no, of course. I'm just too wired, I think. Too wired _to _think."

"That'll pass soon. You're going to be exhausted before you even know what hit you." Beckett stood, taking a moment to press her lips against his forehead. "It was a good shot, Castle. But you know, once you've winged the guy you don't normally need to pummel his face in, too."

He grinned, just a little, feeling macho in front of her in a rare way, and shrugged. "I had too much juice. It was like I was going to jump out of my skin if I didn't, uh, _pummel his face in_. I had to."

"I get that." She was still standing there, holding his good hand, even though she certainly had work to do outside.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just... I think I skipped the adrenaline part and went right into exhaustion."

Castle nodded, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss her palm, then leaning his head back against the wall when she turned and hopped tiredly off the back of the ambulance. The very first wisps of fatigue were beginning to pull at his eyelids, and in his minds eye he could see the energy draining out of him like water out of a leaky cup. He couldn't wait to get home.

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"Tell me why your mom was mad at you today."

They were sacked out on the couch at the loft in their pajamas, talking in fits and starts of tired conversation. It would have been smarter to go to bed as soon as they got home, but they had made the mistake of sitting down after changing. They were falling asleep where they sat leaning into each other. With her head on his shoulder, Beckett could feel him sigh.

"She was just scared I was in danger. She told me to be honest about why I was doing this. But, I have been, haven't I? You know that it's not just about the books anymore, right?"

Beckett huffed out a breath of air and twisted around in his arms so she could kiss him, her fingers coming up to frame his face. He expected just a peck, but she was insistent, sliding her warm lips along his in rhythm with her fingers glancing over his skin. When he parted his lips in response to the touch of her tongue, she made a tiny satisfied noise in the back of her throat and trapped his lower lip with the gentle pull of her teeth.

There was weariness written into the way she pulled away, and the way she let her forehead fall awkwardly against his cheekbone. She whispered, "Of course I know it. I'm sorry I don't tell you more often," before she heaved herself back and pulled a pillow onto his lap so she could rest her head and still look at him. The words were a balm castle hadn't realized he'd needed, and he stroked his good hand through her hair.

"And I'm sorry that you were alone over the summer, digging up your mother's case because I put it back in front of you."

"That's in the past." She touched his chest, and then played with the bandage on his hand, carefully pulling the injured appendage to rest on her stomach. "This is the present. You're here now. How's it feel?"

"Like it's on fire from the inside." He didn't flex the hand like he wanted to, he'd learned how much that could hurt only about half an hour earlier.

"Sure it doesn't need to be x-rayed?"

"Not really." Beckett frowned up at him, so he continued, "If I'm worried in the morning, I'll go to the ER."

It seemed to be enough, and she settled a little deeper into his lap. "M'kay." The answer was mumbled as she fought back another yawn, then rubbed her head against the fabric of her pillow.

"You know what I was thinking in that alley?"

Beckett shook her head and closed her eyes. "Let's get the bad guys?"

Castle huffed out a little laugh and resettled himself a little lower on the couch. He was tired. "I was thinking, thank God we're together, because I think the kiss was the only thing that would have worked to distract the guard."

He could feel Beckett smile against the fabric at his belly as her head sank a little heavier with fatigue. One corner of his mouth lifted in a little grin as he thought about it more. "I mean, imagine if we'd still been... you know."

"Pretending we were happy just friends? Dancing around it? Ignoring all of the really hot sexual tension?" Beckett put a little sultry in her voice and skimmed her fingers over his chest.

Castle flexed his chest muscles, just to make her laugh. It was small and tired but sincere, and she wrapped around his middle to give him an awkward sideways hug before dropping her arms again.

"Probably we wouldn't have been able to resist each other any longer," Castle thought aloud. "We'd totally be in bed right now."

"No way."

"It worked under the mistletoe."

"That was different. You'd already won me over. But if we hadn't already been, you know, headed in the right direction, never would have worked."

"Let's agree to disagree."

Beckett grumbled without vigor. Castle was certain he was right. There's no way, if they hadn't been together at the beginning of this day, that they could have shared a kiss like that and continued to deny the force of the thing between them.

"Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's do something fun tomorrow."

Castle smiled and turned his face into the silky hair at the top of her head. "Yeah." He pressed a kiss there, and used his good hand to comb through the strands. "That sounds perfect."

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A/N: Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Here's a shortish chapter to get back on track. Minimal editing on this, please excuse any errors.

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Chapter 5

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Beckett woke slowly, blinking blearily against what she assumed was the late morning light. Closing her eyes, she rolled away from the light and bumped into Castle where he was stretched out on his back beside her. She snuggled in to him by feel, nuzzling her nose into his side and draping an arm and a leg over him. Her mouth was dry, a trace of headache in her temples, her muscles stiff. It was a post-adrenaline hangover she'd learned to deal with over the years, but at least this time she had Castle there with her.

As if he knew she was thinking about him, he snuffled in his sleep and stretched. Beckett hid her grin against his shirt and peeked at him with one eye. His toes pointed and flexed under the covers and his chest expanded with a big intake of air. When he exhaled his torso dropped in a way that actually rocked her in the bed, and now Beckett was fully awake and swallowing a laugh.

What a bear.

He had certainly earned his heavy slumber in the shootout the previous day, and she was loath to wake him. Still, she couldn't resist running the flat of her palm over his worn flannel shirt. She could feel his warmth and the pleasure of the soft fabric against her skin. It was a simple pleasure, but one that continued to take her by surprise. She thinks she surprises him, too, with her desire to touch all of the time. But if she woke before him, and didn't have to go to work, Castle usually woke to the sweep of her hands over him.

He was waking up now. The little lift of his lips into a smile was the first tell, and when he leaned into her body a little she knew he was nearly there. Smiling, feeling an unusual rush of euphoria, Beckett rubbed her cheek against his chest and lifted up on one elbow. This feeling was new, a kind of rapture as Castle rumbled awake that pushed even her headache aside. For the first time in a very long time, she was able to share the relief of survival with the person she wanted to. For the first time, she could watch him come awake after a day when she thought he might not make it, and the joy of it was making her giddy.

She was pretty sure he was fully awake now and just enjoying the feel of her so close, so Beckett slid her hand beneath the hem of his shirt and teased her fingernails over the soft skin of his belly. The muscles twitched at her touch and Castle finally opened his eyes with a little laugh.

"Hey," he scraped out, his voice dry and crackling but his eyes twinkling at her.

Beckett only murmured a response and dropped her head to his chest. She felt both exhaustion and giddiness, unwilling to lift her head again but giggling for no reason. Her fingers crept further beneath his shirt, brushing higher on his chest until he was squirming a little.

"What's so funny?" he asked, breathlessly.

Looking up at him again, Beckett shrugged a little helplessly. "Just that we're here. I mean, I'm here in your bed, and we're alive. And seriously, who gets into as many scrapes as we do?"

Castle chuckled in agreement, his chest shifting beneath her wandering fingers and she pressed into the muscles again. This time, Castle moved to stop her by clapping a hand over hers, and he barked in pain, jerking up into a sitting position.

Beckett sat up just as quickly, eyes darting to his chest to see what she might have done, but she quickly realized the problem was his injured hand. "Oh, Castle."

The hand he was suddenly cradling against his chest was visibly swollen, and the black and blue mottling had spread so it showed at either end of his bandage. Beckett reached out and tenderly traced the bruising, her fingertips barely touching his skin, but he cringed and flinched anyway.

"Bad?" she asked, though she knew the answer.

"Not if I don't move it," Castle hedged, but he looked pale. "But, uh, maybe x-rays."

"Definitely," Beckett amended. She looked closely at his face. The pain was subsiding, but he still looked wan and tired. "Are you okay otherwise?"

Castle shrugged, but she flashed him a stern look. "I feel a little sick," he admitted. "Well, not sick really. Just kind of dry."

"Yeah, me too. We need to rehydrate." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. "Let me get some water."

"No, hey. I can get it."

"Babe, stay. You saved my life yesterday." She kept a hand pressed to his chest until she was sure he was going to stay put, then brushed a quick smiling kiss across his stubbled cheek. "Hey," she whispered before moving away.

"Hmm?"

"We're alive." She kissed his cheek again, jauntily, and left for the kitchen. Pulling a tray down from a cabinet, she loaded it down with water, orange juice, and Advil. Before heading back to the bedroom, she started a pot of coffee. They'd have to be getting up soon to get that hand checked, and there was no better incentive for the two of them than the promise of a good caffeine kick.

When she carried her tray into the bedroom, she found Castle sitting propped up against the headboard with his hand resting gingerly on a pillow.

"Does it hurt much like that?"

"No, it's alright for now."

Beckett wasn't sure she believed him, but she'd get him checked out within the hour. For now, she rested the tray on his lap so he could support it with his good hand and clambered into bed beside him, pulling the comforter up over their legs. She curled into his side and took a sip of juice. That sat quietly for a few minutes, Beckett pressing a strange smile into his shoulder between sips of water and juice.

"So domestic," Beckett intoned quietly, and they both chuckled, a little bit of the survivor's glow creeping into Castle, too. When the laughter died down he kissed her forehead and squeezed her knee with his good hand, even though it meant he had to balance the tray with his bad hand.

"Not domestic, Kate. Romantic. You brought me breakfast in bed."

"It's not really breakfast. But I can make toast if you want some." She was teasing, but then reconsidered. "Do you want some food?"

Castle shook his head, drinking. "Don't think so. So, when you said we should do something fun today, you totally meant going to the ER, right?"

"Sure, Castle."

"I know you so well."

"You always think of everything."

They lapsed into silence after that, latent fatigue building as some of the morning giddiness wore off. They'd been sitting in quiet for minutes when Beckett nudged Castle. "You ready to get up?"

"Yeah," Castle sighed. They got up sluggishly, their progress through the daily routine slowed by Castle's injury, but Beckett soothed his growing frustration with a hand between his shoulder blades and a soft word. She left him to finish getting dressed while she made their coffee, reheating it in the microwave and listening to his soft curses and grumbles floating across the room.

Castle stomped out of the bedroom in a flustered state, holding his arm stiffly beside him, his shirt only half buttoned. "Kate, can you...? I can't quite get these..." he gestured and sighed loudly.

Beckett smiled to diffuse his annoyance, sliding a warm mug into his good hand, and quickly finished the job. For her own amusement she left the top few unbuttoned, flicking her fingers against the skin and the light dusting of hair there. She kissed the spot lightly, she couldn't seem to stop that this morning, and looked up at him with her head cocked to one side.

"Done," she murmured, her hands resting on his chest. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just-" but Castle interrupted himself with another big sigh and rolled his shoulders. "I guess it hurts more than I realized."

"Yeah." Beckett gingerly pulled his hand up to eye level and winced sympathetically. "Better go see if you broke this thing."

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"I can't believe I got a clean bill of health!" Castle stated jubilantly, taking Beckett's hand with his good one and swinging their arms like you might with a child. Beckett raised an eyebrow at him as they strode across the hospital parking lot toward her cruiser and shook her head.

"That's because you didn't."

"It's not broken," Castle argued, looking around like he was ready to take on the world.

"_'Severe sprain, lucky it's not broken, probably hurts just as much as if it was, right?_'" Beckett parroted the doctor's words back at him. "And you've got that big brace on it."

"Meh," Castle dismissed it with a grin across the roof of the car at her as they opened their respective doors. "That's nothing. So what are we going to do on our day off?"

Beckett shook her head in amusement. "Maybe we should wait and see how you feel when the pain meds fade out."

"I've got replacements," he whispers conspiratorially as they settle in and he awkwardly buckles his seat belt with his good hand. At her look, he amends, "Alright, so let's not go bowling or do any arm wrestling today. But it's beautiful out for January, we should picnic."

Beckett wrinkled her nose. "A little cold for that, still."

"A walk then. Let's walk through the park. And we can go see a show, have a late dinner. If you're worried about being cold, Kate," he leaned over the console to stroke a hand down her thigh and nip lightly at her earlobe, "I'm sure I can keep you warm."

Beckett laughed and squirmed away from him. "Alright, Casanova. Let's get some lunch and a walk before we see what you can do with just one hand."

Castle grinned and mumbled into her hair exactly what he could do with just one hand until she was blushing and laughing, pushing him away.

"Lunch first, Castle. Feed me."

Castle settled back into his seat with a cocky grin. Her stern words weren't fooling him, not when he could see the flush on her cheeks and hear the breathlessness in her voice. The smugness faded into something softer as he watched her, and a warmth he hadn't known he was missing suffused through him. Beckett glanced over at him as she pulled out of the parking lot and smiled, a little confusion in the furrow of her brow.

"What is it?"

"We're going to be fine, aren't we? Even though things seem so hard, sometimes. We'll be alright."

Beckett met his gaze warmly. She couldn't take his hand, because it was the bad one closest to her, so she curled her fingers over his knee and nodded. "I can't imagine anything that could overcome this... this, what we have. This love." She shook her head in a little self deprecation at the corniness of her words, but Castle beamed.

He looked like she'd just handed him the moon, so she grinned back. Laughing a little at how in love they were, how silly it made them, she drew her attention back to the road, and getting some food in their bellies. They were going to be alright.

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**A/N**: Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: This has been slow to come around. But on the upside, I found this great Churchill quote while studying for my WWII history final. "In war: Resolution. In defeat: Defiance. In victory: Magnanimity. In peace: Fanfic."

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True story.

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The glow of surviving the shootout was fading as the afternoon light shifted toward dusk. They'd gone for a long walk, but the weight of the last few days had settled slowly over Beckett's psyche and Castle's hand had begun to throb with every natural swing of his arm. By silent, mutual consent they headed home. Beckett was weaving distractedly through traffic and Castle was slumped to the side of the passenger seat with his head resting against the window.

Watching the busy crowds of New Yorkers with their scowling faces and harried strides left him feeling a great melancholy. He frowned, then straightened up with a disgusted noise when he could see his own reflection glaring at him.

Beckett flicked her eyes over at him. "Your hand?"

"No. Yes."

From a different man, that might have seemed like attitude, or avoidance, or at worst flippancy. But from Castle, who made such a point to choose his words carefully, Beckett could see the truth in both answers.

"We'll be home soon."

Castle, still slumped in the seat with his knees shoved against the dashboard in a posture of adolescent despondency, twisted his head to look at her with a quick grin.

"Home?"

Beckett blinked in the glare of a red light, and peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Well. I meant..." The loft? Orher place_? _She was currently heading toward both, though the Castle residence was the closer of the two. "Uh..." Her voice trailed off when her brain failed to suggest new words.

"Mine is closer," Castle supplied delicately as the light turned green.

With a noisy inhalation, Beckett headed that way. It was strange that Castle would just let her verbal slip go, but he was tired. They both were.

At the loft, they remained quiet. Jackets and shoes were discarded as soon as they stepped inside, Castle gingerly pulling his bad hand through his sleeve. He moved slowly, and by the time he was done Beckett was handing him a new dose of medicine and a glass of water. When he had downed the pills she took the glass back from him and set it aside. With eternal care, she took the injured hand in hers and placed an ice pack over the battered knuckles.

Castle shuddered, partly from pain and partly in anticipation of the next few minutes of torture. Beckett smiled sympathetically and smoothed her palm against his so that his hand was sandwiched between the ice and her skin. It made the unpleasant experience a little easier to bear, and Castle rolled some of the tension out of his shoulders.

"This sucks."

"Yeah," Beckett nodded. "Can you hold this or do you want me to do it?"

"I've got it."

"You hungry?"

"Not really."

Beckett hummed in agreement, but Castle followed as she started back toward the kitchen anyway. She made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and cut it in two halves, one for each of them. They ate standing up, too tired and too caught up in their thoughts to sit. Castle watched her eat, noting for the first time the shadows under her eyes and the hunch of her shoulders. When she stopped mid-chew, the sandwich held absently over a paper towel and a far-away look in her eyes, he leaned over a bit so he was in her line of vision.

When her eyes met his, he gave a small smile. "Thanking about your mom?"

Beckett shrugged and grimaced. "Thinking about Lockwood. I think I'm going to go up to the prison on my next day off, see if I can't get anything out of him."

"Kate..."

But words failed him. Who was he to tell her not to try, even if it seemed useless?

"I'm tired Castle."

He nodded, swept a palm across her shoulders in comforting solidarity, and threw away the trash from their quick supper. "I know it's early, but how about we go to bed anyway?"

Relief flitted across her face and she stepped in close to press her cheek against the round of his shoulder. "Sounds good."

In minutes they were sinking into their pillows, curled up facing each other with only inches between their faces. Castle felt a tug of tender amusement when Beckett dragged open heavy eyes and reached across the dark space between them to trace her fingers over his bruises with a touch so soft he almost couldn't feel it.

"Thanks for taking care of me," he whispered, a little grin lightening the heavy mood between them. Beckett only smiled acquiescence before withdrawing her hand to tuck both of her fists under her chin as her eyes drooped closed again. Castle leaned over and pressed his lips against her forehead in thanks and whispered, "'Night," but he could tell by the slowing rhythm of her breathing that she was already out.

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In the morning, Castle woke to bright daylight, a throbbing hand, and a cold, empty bed. Sitting up with a flare of pain and annoyance, he saw the note she had left on his nightstand.

_Morning, Sleepyhead._

_Didn't want to wake you._

_Lunch? Text me._

He knew without confirmation that she was sparing his pride, leaving him at home without having to cite the potential problems his injury might cause. He understood it, but he didn't necessarily like it. He sent off a quick reply, _Of course lunch! What time? _and started the newly painstaking process of his morning routine. His hand hurt, and it soured his mood before it had a chance to be bright.

"Stupid hand, stupid Lockwood. Stupid me punching him instead of killing him." Half an hour later, he got a text from Beckett that she'd have to forgo lunch but she wouldn't be home late. Now fully aggravated, Castle stomped out into the living room fussing and muttering. "Lunch is stupid anyway. Stupid lunch. Hate lunch."

"Who hates lunch?"

It was his mother, sitting in unusual quiet on a stool at the breakfast bar. Wait... his mother? Quiet? Castle slowed his minor tirade to look closely at her. Not only was she quiet enough that he hadn't noticed her there, but she looked positively subdued.

Something was up.

"Morning, Mother. Everything okay?"

Martha, looking a little dazed, slid a check over the counter to him with a trembling hand. _Oh_. Oh, wow. "This is... Wow. A million dollars?" His question was superfluous, but his mother nodded anyway. "From Chet?"

"Yes."

With a wavering voice, Martha explained the guilt she was feeling. She'd been going to break it off with the man before he died, and now she had this unexpected and overly ardent gift.

"A million dollars, Richard. I can't possibly accept it."

Castle reached over to take her hand and give it a squeeze, because he knew that nothing he could say would help. He couldn't bring the man back, and he couldn't help her decide what to do. His earlier annoyance had transitioned into full sympathy, and he was at a loss. His phone beeped where it sat a few feet away on the counter.

When he didn't move to check it, Martha gave a watery laugh. "Don't ignore her on my account, Richard. If losing Chet has taught me anything, it's that life is too short."

Castle tilted his head at her, feeling utterly incapable of helping, and gave a wry smile. Moving around the counter, he checked his phone with one eye still on his mother. But she was just watching curiously, so he read his message then.

"Oh, come on!" He slapped a hand down on the counter with a loud bang, and then felt immediately ashamed. Sheepishly, he shook his head at his mother who had half-stood at his exclamation. "No," he said in a calmer voice. "Nothing's wrong. It's just... she says the butler did it!"

"Oh, well. I guess..." Martha waved a hand about in a small imitation of her usual flair. "I guess you'll have to tell me why that's significant."

"Because, it's the butler! It's the most clichéd killer ever, and I've often suggested that eventually a butler would be the killer." Martha's smile was patronizing, and Castle rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess you'd have to have been there. But it's kind of awesome."

"I'm sure it is, dear. But you'll have to tell me all about it later, I have to go talk to the kids about this," she gestured cautiously at the check still laying ominously on the counter, seemingly afraid to touch it.

When she stood, Castle walked over to give her a strong one-armed hug. "Love you," he said quietly. "I'm sorry about Chet."

Martha patted his back and stepped away, her eyes a little shinier than usual. With one more squeeze of his hand, she was out the door in a flurry of movement, leaving Castle alone in the empty loft. He sighed and sat down, tapping a foot restlessly. A text to Alexis was returned with a quick _Sorry Dad, can't today _and so all hope of a lunch date was gone.

He should write, but it felt wasteful. _Wasteful_. When the word popped into his head Castle literally sat up straight. Interesting. He'd never minded staying at home and writing when inspiration struck before. But the writing, though arguable better than before he'd started shadowing Beckett at the precinct, had been taking a more and more secondary place in his life of late.

And only days ago he'd been instilled as a real member of the team. Trained, armed, ready. Useful. The exact opposite of what he felt now, sitting restlessly on the edge of his bed in sweats, without a clue of how to spend his time and ease this disquiet in his chest. With a sigh, he wandered into his study and opened the laptop, but learned quickly that writing was out of the question, unless he was willing to peck at the keyboard with his one good hand.

He was still sitting there stewing hours later, rocked back on his swivel chair and glaring at the ceiling. The sound of a key turning in the lock was the most welcome sound he could have conjured, and he sat forward with interest. He checked the time on his laptop, but it was only four o'clock.

"Alexis?" He called.

"Nope," came the reply, and Castle grinned in pleased surprise.

"Beckett, are you playing hooky?" He stood and stretched, extending his arms toward the ceiling and bending first left, then right. The series of pops in his back reminded him that he was too old to sit for hours on end. A small stab of pain reminded him that he was overdue for his pain meds.

"Nope," Beckett answered again. She was being vague, and Castle had found over the years that pleased ambiguity from his muse usually meant some kind of happy surprise. He followed the sounds of her arrival, the rattle of keys dropped on the counter, a soft huff of air when a coat landed on a chair, cabinets opening and closing.

Castle paused before fully entering the room, reveling at the domesticity of Beckett moving around his kitchen, pouring a glass of water, rolling her head on her neck to relieve some tension. He was reminded of her words the previous night, _We'll be home soon_, and grinned. They hadn't talked about it yet, it was probably way too soon, but to him it seemed inevitable that this _would _be her home at some point. Their home.

"Hey," he murmured as he closed the gap between them, his earlier annoyance completely gone at the sight of her. He padded up behind her and kissed her cheek from behind. She smiled and turned halfway into him, sighing when he rubbed at the muscles at the base of her skull that he'd seen her trying to stretch.

"Hey, babe."

He couldn't remember when she'd started calling him that, but he absolutely loved it. "Hey."

"You have a good day?" she asked softly, her eyes halfway closed.

Castle only grunted in response, preferring to focus on the lovely woman before him instead of the frustration of the day. Beckett nodded in understanding, then said something that completely fixed everything.

"Want to go undercover with me tonight?"

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Castle was trying to be unobtrusive while still listening and watching Beckett and his mother talking companionably on his living room sofa. Beckett, utter stunning human being that she was, was holding his mother's hand and talking her back from an emotional edge. As if that wasn't enough, Beckett was having a heart to heart with his mother while dressed in a little black dress that flirted the line between classy and sexy.

She was perfect. His girlfriend was perfect. He was going to marry that girl.

Oh. Shh.

His own thoughts got away from him and though they were hardly a surprise, he felt the immediate need to keep them in, so he clapped a hand over his mouth. Beckett and Martha turned together, mid-sentence, to stare at him. Laughing, red cheeked, Castle muttered, "Ignore me!" and wandered back to the kitchen so he wouldn't interrupt again.

Less than a minute later, Beckett was beside him; beautiful, delicious. Yeah, his day had taken a big upswing. She slipped a hand under his jacket to stroke down his chest and tapped the weapon in his shoulder holster, querying. But she seemed to satisfy the question in her mind without asking it aloud, and she grinned up at him where he was staring a little stupidly down at her.

He shook his head to clear it. "Everything good in there?" Beckett nodded and brushed her lips over his, a gesture he happily returned. "I love that you're so great with her."

Again, Beckett only smiled. "You ready?" she asked.

"Yeah, good to go."

He followed her back to the living room and helped her into her coat. She paused at the door, her grin growing. "Get your keys, Castle. I think we're going to need the Ferrari."

Castle's face lit up. This just kept getting better and better. Undercover? Beckett looking even hotter than normal? Ferrari? All the ingredients of an awesome evening. He didn't even know all of the details, just enough to not get in the way, and it was enough. He grabbed the keys and spun them around, somewhat smug in his good luck.

Beckett watched him with a knowing smile, and trailed a finger over his ear to tug playfully at his earlobe. When he shivered, she bit her lip. "I'm driving."

"What? No. My Ferrari." Not an elegant argument. Beckett was suitably unimpressed.

"Oh, I know," she grinned. "I'm still driving."

Castle shook his head. "No! We're talking about a high performance vehicle, Kate. Powerful. Sensitive." He stepped closer to her, jangling the keys with a flick of his wrist, tilting his head condescendingly. "It's designed to respond to your every whim."

A subtle eye roll, a flick of her eyelashes, the play of light over the satin of her dress when she stepped closer were his only warnings that he was playing with fire. Then Beckett stepped close enough that her body was brushing against his chest. She laid a hand at his shoulder so she could reach up and whisper hushed words into his ear.

"I know you like my body, Castle, but we shouldn't really talk _bedroom_," she punctuated the word with a flick of her tongue at his earlobe, "with your mother in the next room."

Castle jerked away with wide eyes and a conflicted grin. While his eyes were darting from Beckett to a knowingly amused Martha and back again, she plucked the keys from his fingers and sauntered away. He should know better than to condescend to her.

"Come on, Kitten. Work to do."

"No!" Castle hissed with indignation as he bounced the short distance between them. "I told you _never _to call me that!"

Beckett just laughed as they left the loft together, twirling the keys to the Ferrari with glee. She couldn't wait to drive this thing.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! This was another long chapter cut in two. Next part out tomorrow night.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: Happy Castle Renewal Day!

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Beckett driving the Ferrari was possibly the hottest thing Castle had seen in his whole life. He needn't have worried about how she'd handle it because she was awesome with it. Dirty jokes flitted about his mind when she wrapped her fingers around the shifter but he didn't voice them; crudeness might detract from the pure sexiness of the moment. Her hair was lifting behind her, allowing the passing street lights to highlight the lines of her neck. The short dress was riding up her thighs to reveal the sexy play of muscles as she worked the pedals in her heels.

It was totally worth letting her drive.

Forced to stop at a red light, Beckett looked over at him with exhilaration in her eyes and caught him staring at her legs. He only shrugged, leering. This, the car and the dress and the heading toward a night club for undercover work, this was all brimming with role-play, and it was exciting. Beckett must have been feeling it too, Castle thought, when she bit her lip purposefully and let her teeth worry the flesh. When she used both hands to shake out her hair and smooth down the wind-blown fly aways, he swallowed. She shimmied in the seat so the dress crept higher and laughed at the smoldering look it earned her.

She was giddy and mischievous. _A vixen_, he thought, and while they were stuck at the light she reached over and scraped her nails over his thigh from his knee to his hip. She was teasing with her touch, enticing and delectable, and if Castle hadn't known they'd be getting out of the car in a few short minutes it would have been easy to give in and let themselves get carried away.

Instead he lifted his voice over the growl of the engine, "Green light."

Beckett's lips parted in a surprised, devilish grin, and Castle shook his head at the shiny darkness of her expression. "No, not..." He lifted her hand away from his, uh, hip, and nodded forward. "The light's green."

Beckett's eyes flicked back to the road, and she smiled in playful disappointment. "Ah." With a roar, they were off again. "I guess this is almost as much fun as the other thing," she said, speaking just loudly enough to be heard over the whip of the wind.

Castle smirked and shook his head. "Hardly."

"I said _almost_, Castle."

What he'd been able to keep himself from doing in the car became infinitely more difficult to resist when they entered the club and Beckett started dancing. She was slipping between club-goers, shifting her hips and using her own hands to drag her skirt a little higher, dipping low and looking over her shoulder at him with a dirty grin. The light was low and red-hued, the shadows adding definition to the skin revealed by the low neckline of her dress and glinting off of her lips when she called, "You comin', Castle?"

Oh, this was so much better than when he'd been forced to pretend he didn't notice those things.

She wasn't even moving to the music, and it was somehow even sexier that way. The beat was heavy, the crowd moving as one, but Beckett was a little lost in her own high. When she dipped again and dragged a hand down the satin of her dress Castle groaned and moved up behind her. "Let's pretend," he let the words spill through the tumble of her hair, "that we aren't here to drag some creepy coke dealer into custody."

It was just a game, wishful thinking, and he didn't expect the way she arched her back and pressed her ass back against him with a little swivel at her waist. His nose tucked into her sweet-smelling hair he could only see her lashes flutter and her cheek raise in a smile. Unable to resist the urge, he gripped her hips solidly and pulled her back against him, a seduction thinly veiled by the pretense of dancing, and hissed at both the sensation of the contact and the flare of pain the grip caused in his hand. Beckett turned to glance over her shoulder at him with subtle concern, still moving in an entirely un-subtle way, and locked her dark, dark eyes with his.

"Too much?" she hummed, and turned all the way around in his grasp, sighing when the movement caused his hands to slip around her sensitive midsection.

"Not enough," he countered. He wasn't about to let a little discomfort cut this moment short. "Seriously," he whispered, "let's forget about the work."

"I'd love to, Babe, but I see the guy over there." She spun back to face him with a knowing grin at the arousal in his eyes, pressing indecently against him one more time. Beckett leaned up and slid her lips and tongue against his in a quick, dirty little kiss, then whispered for him to get some drinks. "And keep an eye out."

Then she turned back toward the target and started sliding through the crowd toward him. Mind hazy, Castle watched her go before heading to the bar. It took him longer than it should have to get drinks (damn bartenders and their need to serve every hot girl in the room before they even glance at him) and the heat and fun of their play had faded by the time he had the martinis in his hands.

The residual good humor drained away as he awkwardly lifted the glasses over the crowd, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the glass in his bad hand. The crowd that had been a moving beat that fed his energy with Beckett while they were flirting and dancing was now an annoyingly drunken obstacle as he tried to make his way across the room.

By the time he got to them, he could see the handoff going down. Under cover of the table and the loud noise of the club, the sleazy dealer was palming a stash to Beckett. There was just enough time for jealousy to swing through Castle's blood at the way that creep was smiling at _his _girlfriend, his eyes drifting down her chest, then Beckett was slamming the guy down on the table and slapping the cuffs on him.

The bouncer took a menacing step toward the commotion, and Castle reacted with instincts he didn't even know he had. He tossed the drink in his right hand at the guy's face, the olive bouncing off of his nose, and tossed the glass aside. He heard it shatter against the ground as he drew his gun from his shoulder holster in a slick move. Incensed, the bouncer wiped the alcohol out of his eyes and turned on him only to come face-to-face with Castle's gun. He froze.

"Take it easy, bub," Castle smirked at him, wiggled the barrel of the gun, and took a leisurely sip from the martini he was still holding in his left hand. It was pretty good, even if his hand was killing him.

"Castle!" Beckett's voice broke through his totally noir moment, and he looked over to find her stretching one hand toward him. "Cuffs!"

"Oh, right! Sorry."

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"That was so cool! Did you see, Beckett? Did you see how I didn't even spill the drink I was holding? Just like James Bond."

Beckett shook her head but smiled, handing their prisoner over to some unis to get him into interrogation. "I'm gonna go change, James. You want ice for your hand?"

"Why would you change?" Beckett gave him an unamused look, and headed toward the locker room without answering, so he called, "Yes please! Ice would be good."

After she'd gone, he turned back to the bullpen, full of himself. Pleased to see Ryan and Espo still there and working steadily, he walked over with some added swagger and sat on Ryan's desk.

"Boys, don't be jealous, but I just took down the bad guy and didn't even spill my martini. Just like James Bond."

Ryan and Esposito looked up slowly, in sync, and each raised one eyebrow. "Castle, you know James Bond wasn't a real cop, right?" Ryan asked, dismissive.

Castle scoffed. "Not the point. I was so cool in there, I could have been the star of my own movie."

"Castle," Esposito chimed in, "Real cops don't care if they get a little messy in a take down. And the word is that Beckett took the guy down."

"I got the bouncer," Castle said with an unconcerned wave. "And you guys are just jealous of my cool."

The boys laughed and turned back to their work, actively ignoring him.

"You guys," Castle continued, "just fear that you may never live up to the high standard of cool that- oh, hey, Beckett's back." He hopped off the desk, stumbling over his own feet in an attempt to stand quickly, bumping his hip against the corner of the desk and knocking over a jar full of paperclips. With an exaggerated sigh, he leaned down to pick them up, promptly bouncing his head off of the desk drawer handle. "Ouch!"

"Yeah, double-oh-seven," Esposito mocked him, "we're super jealous of your moves."

Rubbing his forehead, Castle narrowed his eyes at him. When Beckett approached, now in jeans and a blazer, he took the ice pack she offered and held it briefly to his forehead. Beckett looked at him quizzically, but he waved her off. "So, we questioning that guy tonight?" he asked instead.

"Well, I am." Before Castle could interject, Beckett held up a hand. "Sorry. The guy likes me, I think I'll do better on my own."

"Seriously? I'm missing all the best parts of this case. First the butler, then the confession..."

"He hasn't confessed yet, Castle. And really, you don't think tonight was the best part of the case? Because I do."

She looked at him meaningfully, a little bit of saucy in her voice and a lot of heat in her eyes.

"Oh, well, yeah. That was great." He smiled at her for too long, until the boys were clearing their throats. Castle turned to stare at them. "What?"

"Nothing, lovebirds."

Beckett flushed lightly and headed off toward interrogation, and Castle just glared at Esposito. He readjusted his ice pack over his hand and flexed the fingers gingerly. "Hey. This is getting better."

"Good to hear that, Castle. The place hasn't been quite so much fun without you around." It was Montgomery, wearing his jacket and carrying a briefcase as he headed out for the night.

"Oh, Cap, I can't believe you told him that." Esposito sat back in his chair and held his palms out in mock disbelief.

"Yeah, Captain. Think of the long term effects this is going to have on his ego," Ryan added, shaking his head. Montgomery only laughed but before he could head out, Ryan added, "Hey, you never told us what you'd do if you won the lottery."

Montgomery nodded and turned back to them, . "I'd buy a big ass boat, with deep sea rods hanging off the stern." He shook his head. "It's sad, you know. Guy won the lotto, shoulda been the best day of his life. But it caused all of this misery."

"I guess it turns out that way sometimes, when we get what we think we want," Castle said. He was about to make a flip comment about how that's not how it turned out for him, but was distracted by a flicker of something dark over the captain's features.

Ryan noticed it too. "You alright, Cap?"

Montgomery seemed to shake himself, and shook his head at them with a rueful grin. "Sure. Just all this new budget paperwork from 1PP keeping me busy."

He bid them goodnight and turned to leave, Castle and the boys accepting his explanation at face value. Captain Montgomery had gotten pretty good at presenting a mild and good-natured front in the years since Beckett had been working at his precinct. But he knew he had been slipping lately. Everything reminded him of deception and eventual catastrophe.

Tonight, he found himself, yet again, thinking of the moment when Beckett would learn that he'd been complicit in her mother's murder. If that ever happened, she would be rolling along down a road of good leads and almost answers, finally getting what she wanted, and then she would learn about his part. And he was no fool, he knew she looked up to him. A mentor of sorts. It'd be a sucker punch at a wedding, out of left field and totally devastating. His deception meant that if she ever earned the justice she was seeking, she'd be left in the ruins of betrayal.

He sighed. When he got home, he was going to give Evelyn a big kiss and drink a cold one. It was time to stop giving in to this new habit of the morbid, and go back to just being the Captain. Everything else was out of his hands.

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Castle had his hands in her hair and his lips on her collarbone just moments after they'd gotten to her apartment. Beckett gasped at the sudden assault, leaning in to him and letting her head fall back. But this was happening fast, and she wanted to change first. So against her better judgment, she tugged on his ears until he worked his way back up her neck and her jaw and finally pulled away to look questioningly at her.

"Wait a second. Let me go do something."

"I thought that's what we were doing."

Her head fell forward with a little laugh and she pinched his butt before she headed down the hallway toward her bedroom with an extra sway to her hips. Castle watched her go, typically entranced, then stepped over into the kitchen to get some water. Clubbing is thirsty business, he decided.

He heard her coming back to him and glanced up mid swallow, only to suck some of the water into his windpipe instead of swallowing it. She'd put her dress back on, even the heels. She waited with a little smirk until he stopped hacking, then stepped over to him and rested a hand on his chest.

"Sorry," he wheezed. "Took me by surprise."

"Yeah, I kinda meant to."

"Mean."

"You think so?"

Beckett slipped her hand further up to curl around his neck, moving fully into his space and swaying a little. It was only then that Castle realized there was music coming from the bedroom. Seriously, he was going to have to work on his observational skills when he was distracted by her general hotness. But self-improvement could come later, and he finally looped his arms around her waist and started dancing with her.

"Not always mean," he amended with a small laugh. "Sometimes very nice."

Beckett hummed in either amusement or acquiescence, he wasn't sure, and reached up to kiss him lightly. Then, keeping their lips close enough to brush as they moved, she turned slowly in his arms so that her back was to his front. She kept one arm flung up and around his neck, but the other lowered so she could curl her fingers around his wrist.

Still swaying, dragging her closer, Castle pressed his palm against her lower abdomen, his fingers playing over the satin of her dress.

"We should go dancing," he murmured, kissing her lips and then nuzzling through her hair until he could kiss the spot behind her ear. Beckett made a noise of annoyance, and he chuckled. "I don't mean right now."

"Good." Beckett dipped and rose in front of him to the music, the rhythm purposeful, using her grasp on his wrist to lower his hand even further. "Thought maybe you'd misunderstood."

"No," he chuckled again, pressing his fingertips into her flesh and starting to walk her toward the bedroom. "No, I'm with you."

"Same page?"

"Mmmhmm." His response was muffled against the skin of her neck, a little frustrated when the tight fabric of her dress prevented him from really touching her the way he wanted to. He nipped at her skin and kept them moving. "Much as I love this dress, Kate, I have to take it off of you now."

"M'kay." The words were a sigh between deep breaths. "I'll keep the heels on."

Castle groaned and laughed. "You're the best."

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**A/N**: Thanks for reading! I truly am thankful for the support I've gotten on this story. :)

Also, I had a nasty note about posting on time PM'd to me today. Luckily, that person said they were unfollowing, which is probably for the best. But for those of you who've been so kind, I thought I'd clarify that when I said I'd be posting 'tomorrow night' I meant right now, though I can see now that it seemed I meant yesterday. 2 a.m. was my morning yesterday, and 1 a.m. is my night time tonight, so I've only had one sleep since I posted last. (That's how I count days when my schedule is silly.) Sorry about that, I didn't think about it being closer to 48 hours than 24 between chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Hello! I'm sorry for abandoning this story! I honestly can't remember if it was a few nasty PM's (long forgotten) or if I had some writer's block (gone, if it ever was.) Really, I kind of forgot about it, but I got some new follows and was reminded that I needed to finish this. Diving back in with a short chapter…

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Castle woke slowly, blinking in the late morning light. He reached toward Beckett's side of the bed even though he knew she wouldn't be there. The light meant the sun had been up for a while and he wasn't surprised to feel only cool sheets beside him. Still, he felt good. He stretched in a lazy Saturday morning kind of way, arms up over his head to press his palms against the headboard, back arching, toes pointing. When he relaxed, he sank back into the haze of semi-sleep and closed his eyes.

In the stillness he flexed his hand, the fingers curling one after the other until he formed a fist and clenched. No pain. He relaxed again and sat up, yawning. He felt a passing wave of grumpiness that Beckett hadn't woken him when she left. Then he grinned, because it didn't matter. Today he was going back to the precinct after a few days off. It was a good day.

It was with a child-like sort of glee that he purchased Beckett's coffee, over-tipping the barista and nearly dropping both drinks in his enthusiasm. A quick text exchange with his girl (as he seemed to be thinking of her lately, though he loathed the thought of what she'd think about that) and he was headed to the crime scene. When he arrived he could barely contain himself. He'd only missed a few days, at Beckett's insistence, but it was _so good to be back_. He grinned at each beat cop he saw, bumped fists with a few detectives, and finally caught sight of his girl (he had to stop that) and the boys. And Lanie, who was speaking when he arrived.

Castle walked up just in time to hear her call Esposito "baby." Whatever efforts he'd made to contain his delight were tossed aside with abandon.

"Baby?" He repeated with a theatrically raised eyebrow as he stepped in next to Beckett. "Cute, but isn't that a little casual for-"

"Oh, uh-uh, Castle," Lanie retorted. She held up a gloved finger to stop him. "Do not even get me started on you two, okay? You think we don't notice the looks and the long lunches and how sometimes one of your hands is hiding between her-"

"Lanie!" Beckett hissed, the one ear her hair was tucked behind an angry red.

Lanie eyed them both, and gestured. "How close you stand together…"

"Okay!" Castle held up his hands. "I don't even remember what you said. Were you saying something about the body?"

Lanie glared again, and then smiled and patted him on the cheek. "Welcome back, Castle."

Back in the car and headed toward the precinct, Beckett took a sip of her latte and hummed. Castle smiled and leaned halfway across the distance between them.

"It's so good to be back. Here. With you."

"Mmm, it's good to have great coffee again."

Castle puffed out a breath and sat back, crossing his arms until Beckett gave in and took one of his hands in hers. She didn't look over, didn't apologize for being glib, but he could read the true sentiment in her smile when she laced their fingers together. He squeezed lightly; silent acceptance of her silent peace offering. He leaned back in the seat and he was happy.

Later that night, Castle wouldn't be able to put his finger on when the day started to go wrong. There was no sudden chilling reveal of bad news, no sharp words that set people on edge. But their happiness was like an ice cube left out on the kitchen counter, losing its shape and dripping away off the edge of their day. In retrospect, it might have been some of the first information that came in, that their leads were pulling them into Washington Heights.

"Washington Heights is a shady place that time of night," Beckett muttered, pacing away from their murder board with a distracted pull of her fingers through her hair.

Just the mention of the place and Castle could feel a pull near his spine, his head suddenly too heavy and his shoulders working to carry the extra strain. And Beckett's smile fell away and stayed gone, melancholy present in the cross of her arms and the list in her stance. There were too many sighs, and not just from her. The whole team was trudging through dreary work. The case felt heavy and somber. Castle, who had been so happy to be back working with them, felt useless without the opportunity for his usual quips and silly theories.

There was something wrong, and none of them could put their fingers on it right away. The evidence was dark and murky. A stripped cab, Syrian suspects with diplomatic immunity, Washington Heights, a mysterious dolly. And Beckett was drifting away, preoccupied, internal, working too hard to focus.

At the precinct, Castle made her a fresh mug of coffee, but couldn't read the flick of her eyes when she accepted it from him. Unsure of what she needed, Castle moved back to stare at the evidence. To do something helpful, to think of something new. Finally, Castle sat up straight in his chair.

"It's an address!" He stood up, looking around for someone to tell. While he'd been thinking through the evidence, the team had wandered into the breakroom, so he scrambled over to them, ignoring the chair he knocked over on the way. "It's an address!" he repeated, holding onto the doorframe and swinging his head into the room. "The string of numbers, look…"

He gestured, and they followed him sluggishly back to the board. "This part of the number is an address and if you look it up it's a storage place." Finally, the others seemed to shed their misery as a group, a new lead offering the solace of action.

"It's a storage unit," Beckett agreed, eyes narrowing as they closed in on the clue. For the first time in hours she made real eye contact with him and even managed a little grin.

At the storage facility, she even gave him a soft eye roll at his expected Indiana Jones joke. After she opened the door and they waited for their eyes to adjust to the dark, Castle allowed himself a small moment of intimacy, and he pulled a few chords of her hair out from where they'd gotten trapped when she hastily threw her jacket on. After smoothing her hair in place, he squeezed the tense muscle where her shoulder met her neck.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his nose almost brushing against the top of her head.

The corner of Beckett's mouth lifted slightly, though it was more grimace than smile. Her eyes flicked up to him, still darting, and then back to the gaping maw of the storage unit before them. "Let's do this first, okay?"

Before Castle could even begin to panic about all of the potential implications of that statement, Beckett was stepping inside. "It's empty," she muttered, her flashlight sweeping the space until it illuminated a single crate at the back of the room.

Despite his attention still being mostly on his partner's mood, Castle managed to quip, "Well, the Arc of the Covenant was in a crate."

They walked up together, and Castle lifted the lid while Beckett held her flashlight steady. What they found had Castle letting out a dark, low laugh. "Woah," he murmured. It was rows and rows of plastic explosives, neatly packaged and ready to blow up something big.

"So-"

Castle never got to voice his thoughts. An alarm he'd never heard before went off at Beckett's hip, and he could see the red illumination of a lighted device there.

His head tilted curiously, but Beckett spoke before he could. "Castle, get out!"

"What?"

This time her voice was strained and left no time for questions. "Get out! Get out now!"

.

…

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A/N2: Thanks for reading. Man, I loved Setup.


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